


these stars align

by itsmylifekay



Series: Fire Alarm [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 04:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4333901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmylifekay/pseuds/itsmylifekay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of Steve and Bucky's story after they met during a fire alarm evacuation, a request by Meero94.</p><p>The rain’s still coming down in heavy sheets just outside the window but Bucky’s hand is warm and strong, a nearly magnetic pull that Steve has to physically stop himself from leaning into. He lets a soft smile curve his lips instead and settles for pulling Bucky in by the belt loops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meero94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meero94/gifts).



> Thanks to Meero94 for the request, sorry it took so long to write but I hope you like it!

 

A cold rain is hitting against the window, gathering in fat crystal droplets that glow in the fading evening light. The sun is dropping over the horizon but there’s no golden orange glow, the sky instead obscured by thick swaths of grey.

Steve’s hair is still slightly damp from his walk back from class, hanging across his forehead and threatening to drip onto the textbook flipped open on his lap. There’s a knock on his door as he flips to the next page and he barely has time to glance up before he hears a sigh from the doorway. A fondly exasperated sigh, but a sigh nonetheless.

“Can I help you?” Steve asks, looking back down to his book and ignoring the face he knows Bucky is pulling just over his shoulder. He’s rewarded with another sigh and then footsteps coming across the room. The door to his closet opens and closes and then there’s a towel flopped across his head, effectively obscuring his view and all hope of continuing to study.

“Yeah, you can help me by not giving yourself pneumonia.”

Bucky’s voice comes from directly above him now, his legs pressed against the side of the bed and his strong hands moving the towel through Steve’s hair. And it’s not until about a minute and a handful of creative insults later that Bucky finally releases Steve’s head, settling the towel around Steve’s shoulders instead and running a hand through his bangs to help push them back from his forehead. Steve grumbles but the sound holds no real bite.

The rain’s still coming down in heavy sheets just outside the window but Bucky’s hand is warm and strong, a nearly magnetic pull that Steve has to physically stop himself from leaning into. He lets a soft smile curve his lips instead and settles for pulling Bucky in by the belt loops. Bucky leans down to meet him easily, a quick brush of lips before they’re both pulling away. It’s short and fleeting and unbearably chaste- no chance to linger. But it’s something they’re both used to.

Steve’s crazy schedule means he has to spend most of his time in class or in the library, and that even the rare times he’s in the dorm he has to focus most of his time on his studies or sleeping. Bucky’s been unbelievably understanding, taking to doing his own studying in Steve’s room so that they can spend time together in any way possible. But Steve still finds himself wishing he could give Bucky more time. Better time. Time that isn’t constricted or constrained or dictated by the other commitments in his life.

He still hasn’t figured out just how to make that work, unfortunately. There always seems to be something else to do, some other test or project looming on the horizon. There never seems to be the right time to ask. The right day to set aside.

And maybe he’s just too focused, too used to spending every day battling against the world to even know how to take a break. To know how to relax…

“How much studying you got tonight?” Bucky asks.

Steve blinks back into focus, looks down to where his textbook is still open in his lap. “Have to finish my reading for art history, then I should study a bit for my organic chemistry exam this Friday.” He flicks absently at the page in front of him. “And if I have time I’d like to get some more work done on one of my projects.”

“Alright, better get crackin’ then.” Bucky gives his shoulder a squeeze before making his way over to the desk in the corner, throwing down his backpack and sprawling out in the chair.

The rain’s created a mottled web on the window, drops trembling together in an intricate pattern before becoming too heavy and slipping out of sight. A rumble of thunder and a flash of lightening in the distance have Bucky leaning back in his chair, tipping it onto two legs to stare out across the darkened campus with his fingers drumming on the windowsill. Steve allows himself a moment to take in his profile- the strong line of his jaw and the dark brown hair that curls just above his ear. He takes it all in and feels a wave of warmth rush up his spine, spilling over as a smile that he hides in his book.

The next time he looks up- Bucky’s looking back. Their eyes catch and neither look away, a silence stretching between them as thunder rolls closer just beyond the window. Finally, Steve can’t take it anymore. “What?” he asks, a little more forcefully than he intended.

But Bucky isn’t deterred, just shakes his head and says, “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

Steve balks at that, has to stop himself from spluttering as he shuts his book with not a little bit of force. “Excuse me?” Because Steve’s been called a lot of things but _gorgeous_ has never been one of them. Honestly, he’s not even sure if he wants it to be.

Bucky shrugs, still framed by the window and staring at Steve like he’s something special, something more beautiful than the storm outside. “You are. Glare at me all you want, doesn’t change the truth.”

For a long while Steve stays silent, stares Bucky down with a calculating kind of glare that carefully hides all the noise in his head, all the questions. Because Steve has no idea where this is coming from, what Bucky’s planning, _if_ he’s got something planned, what he expects and what Steve’s supposed to do. But he takes a moment to calm down and actually think. Realizes that he’s most likely overreacting.

“You’re still charming as ever, Buck.” Steve finally says, voice measured as he reopens his books. “Don’t know what you’re expecting to get from me this time though, since you’re already in my room and I’m not the one preparing your breakfast foods.”

Bucky snorts at that. There’s a muffled thud as he lets his chair fall back to the ground and then Steve hears him sigh. But not the fondly exasperated one he’s used to, not even the frustrated one he hears on the rare occasion Bucky’s actually upset with something. It’s something Steve can’t place- something he doesn’t know how to respond to.

So it’s a good thing Bucky doesn’t give him the chance to try.

“I mean it, Steve.” He says. “Not tryin’ to get anything.”

The sincerity in his voice has Steve pausing, fingers freezing where they were tracing words on the page.

“I just- I was just sitting here thinking how lucky I was and how good you look with your hair all slicked back from the rain. And I didn’t want to bother you but then you looked up at me and your _eyes_ , Steve. You have any idea what they do to me?”

Rain’s pelting harder against the glass now but neither of them notice, too wrapped up in this strange little moment happening between them to give it a second thought, too caught up in the pull of Bucky’s words a to care about the thunder booming a few miles away.

“All I can think about is how on that night, when I was standing there like an idiot in my underwear, you looked at me and I had no idea what was about to walk into my life. I got to kiss you and we were both freezing and stupid and had no idea what the fuck we were doing- I still feel that, when I look at you.”

Steve has no idea what to say to that, just stays frozen on the bed while lightning flashes outside the window, keeps his eyes trained on Bucky’s face while the other man takes a breath before continuing on.

“I thought for sure it was just the moment, that we’d get over those first few days and settle into something different. You’d still be special and I’d still want to kiss you, but it wouldn’t be that same feeling- like I was hot and cold all at the same time.” He runs a hand through his hair, keeps his fingers caught at the back of his neck. “But I was wrong. I was so wrong. ‘Cause the more I get to know you, the more I see who you really are- I can’t even describe it, Steve. But you’re gorgeous to me. I can promise you that. Even more gorgeous than when you were standing in front of me half asleep and freezing.”

There’s a heavy pause once he’s finished, neither of them moving until Bucky heaves a sigh and buries his head in his hands for just a moment before looking to Steve again. “I don’t even know why I’m saying all this. I just had to. And it’s the truth, promise it is.”

And he looks so vulnerable in that moment, so unlike the confident and charming man Steve’s come to know that Steve honestly can’t find it in himself to make fun of him or challenge what he’s done. Instead, he gently closes his book and sets it to the side, puts both hands on his knees and listens to the pounding of the rain.

“You know,” he finally says, not missing the way Bucky’s eyes lift to search his face. “I think after my exam on Friday...I might be free for a few hours.”

And it takes a moment, Bucky’s eyebrows furrowing together before what Steve’s said finally sinks in. But when it does it’s obvious. Bucky gets up and comes to stand in front of Steve, smile soft on his lips but bright in his eyes as he reaches to take one of Steve’s hands and hold it for a just a moment. “Hey, Steve?” He asks.

Steve straightens up a bit more and looks Bucky in the eye, a smile threatening to overtake his own lips as their fingers thread together between them. “Yeah, Buck?”

“I was wondering if you would go on a date with me this Friday night?” Bucky asks, already sounding so happy and expectant that Steve can’t help but kick himself for waiting so long to bring it up.

“And not at the cafeteria, or in the dorm, but somewhere new. I really like you, Steve. And I want to keep getting to know you as much as you’ll let me.”

The rain has softened now, falling in gentle sheets against the glass. There’s lightning in the distance once again and the thunder is a low rumble barely heard beneath the rain. Steve lifts his free hand and threads his fingers into the short hair at the side of Bucky’s head, tugs slightly until Bucky leans down just enough for Steve to knock their foreheads together. “Think it’s about time, really.”

Bucky chuckles at that, a sound that Steve gets to taste when he tugs Bucky down those final inches, a sound that devolves into breathy laughter and a muffled groan when Steve lets go of his hand to press a freezing cold palm into the warm skin just above his waist.

“You’re terrible,” Bucky murmurs, bracing himself on the bed with one hand while the other pinches Steve’s side.

Steve bites his lip in retaliation but smooths it over with his tongue a moment later, pulling away to smirk at Bucky’s glossed over expression. “Maybe. But you’re just as terrible. Probably worse.”

“Is that right?”

“Definitely.”

There are droplets on the window, thick streaks and dripping rivulets, dark and metallic looking in the hazy moonlight. Grey clouds melt into the milky night sky and there’s not a single star overhead, even the moon just a faint sliver of light in the distance. But the night is still perfect, the kind of seeping cold that reminds them both of how far they’ve come. The kind of night that demands and promises a different source of warmth- one found in the press of hands and lips and skin.

One found in shared breath and the memory of an alarm blaring into the night, of two people completely unaware of the stars aligning in the sky overhead.

 

\---][---


	2. Chapter 2

 

_Zzzt Zzzt. Zzzt Zzzt._

Everything is dark and warm and comfortable when Steve slits his eyes open, smacks blindly at the offending glow of his phone before pulling it in front of his bleary eyes, squinting at the brightness of the screen.

“Wh-” he grumbles, trying to focus enough to make out the words. They read ‘ _Bucky Barnes_ ’ and he lets out a quiet groan before swiping his thumb to read the message itself.

_Hey, Stevie. You awake?_

‘ _No_ ’ Steve types back, tossing his phone to the side and rolling over to go back to sleep. Not even two seconds later and he hears another buzz, this one more insistent.

He groans and flips back over, grabbing his phone and pressing it to his ear.

“Bucky, _what-_?”

“Come outside.”

“No,” Steve groans. “Bucky, it’s the middle of the night. What do you want?”

“I want you to come outside. C’mon, it’s Friday we don’t even have classes tomorrow. _Please?_ ”

Steve buries his face in his pillow and considers his options. One, turn his phone to silent and pray Bucky’s not motivated enough to come pound on his door. Two, suck it up and go see what he wants.

Steve heaves a sigh. “How long is this gonna take?”

“So you’re coming?” Bucky asks, excitement clear in his voice and what sounds mysteriously like the jangle of car keys in the background. “Awesome! See you outside in a minute.”

The line goes dead and Steve just stares at it for a moment in the dark, waiting until the screen shuts off to shut his eyes and take a moment to wonder if this isn’t all just a dream. If he can’t just drift back off and wake up tomorrow morning when his alarm goes off at nine…

His phone buzzes in his hand and his eyes fly back open, painful and dry and _why in the world is Bucky waking him up so early?_

Steve pries himself out of bed and checks the new message as he pads about looking for clothes. Bucky’s sent him a pleasant reminder, followed by an even more pleasant ultimatum. ‘ _No falling asleep, meet me outside as soon as you’re dressed. And if you do go back to sleep I’m coming to get you and dumping a bucket of water on your head.’_

He pulls on a pair of skinny jeans and a soft white undershirt, followed by the largest sweater he owns- it’s warm and comfortable and swallows his tiny frame but it keeps him from freezing and that’s really all he can ask. He throws on his winter jacket, pulls on some boots, then grabs his hat and mittens from their spot by the door. Because Bucky’s not just woken him up and told him to come outside at o'dark-thirty in the morning. He’s woken him up and told him to come outside at o’dark-thirty in the morning in the _middle of winter._ There’s snow on the ground. And ice. And most likely some kind of freezing wind capable of making him shiver in five seconds flat.

But he trudges out, leaves new footprints in the snow still caked on the steps and walkways leading from the dorm, shuffles his way up to the street where a pair of headlights is waiting. Bucky leans across to open the door for him and Steve slides in without a word. It’s dark and quiet and there are just a few tiny flakes falling from the sky; it would almost be nice if it weren’t for the circumstances.

Bucky puts the car in drive and they pull out onto the road, the edges of which are filled with greying slush. Leftover salt crunches beneath their tires and Steve finds himself looking out the window, transfixed, watching the gentle glow of streetlights pass them by. The heat’s on high and at some point Bucky reaches to grab a blanket from the back as well, drapes it across Steve’s lap when they’re stopped at a red light. From that point on Steve alternates between watching the road and watching Bucky from the corner of his eye. There’s something calming about them both and Steve settles back in his seat, tugs the blanket higher up around his shoulders and stares past Bucky’s profile into the night.

Sometime later the car begins to slow and Bucky turns on his blinker, pulling off onto a smaller drive that ends in a gravel lot. There’s sand tossed down to help with traction but Steve still eyes the ground dubiously before he takes a step out. His feet crunch in the old snow and Bucky quickly comes around the car to join him, wraps an arm around his shoulders and squeezes him tight- “You’ll love it, Stevie. Promise,” he whispers. There’s a building up ahead of them and the lights in the windows are on, the ‘Open’ sign above the door a warm fluorescent red.

When they push their way in a small bell jingles to announce their arrival and an elderly woman looks up from behind the counter. “Well hello dears. You coming to sit or just passing through?”

“Was planning to sit, if it’s not any trouble.” Bucky says, pulling off his hat and running a hand through his tousled hair.

The woman beams. “Well if it isn’t James Barnes. Of course it’s not any trouble, sweetie. You know better than that.” She bustles out and ushers them to a table, a tiny wooden thing wedged up between a piano and the radiator. She catches Bucky in a quick hug before they can sit down then turns to Steve. “And you must be Steve, pleasure to finally meet you.” Steve lifts an eyebrow and Bucky at least has the decency to look a tad sheepish. Then the woman tugs him in for a hug as well- one that smells like coffee and chocolate cake and just a touch of talcum powder- and Steve finds himself lost in the collar of her gingham dress.

“Pleased to meet you, too, ma’am.” Steve smiles when they pull apart, grinning wider when she reaches up and pats Bucky on the cheek before heading back behind the counter.

“The usual, dearie?” she asks, apparently already sure of the answer she gets when Bucky leans back in his chair and calls a ‘ _yes, ma’am_ ’ in response.

They’re the only ones in the tiny diner so they hardly have to raise their voices to be heard, but they’re tucked out of the way just enough that they still have some privacy. Bucky nudges Steve beneath the table as soon as they’ve sat down, a small curve to his lips that adds to the warmth in his eyes. “So, what do you think?”

“I think,” Steve says, taking a moment to consider and looking around at the faded pictures on the walls. “I think it’s a very nice place, but I’m still not sure why you felt the need to bring me here at three in the morning.”

“Fair enough,” Bucky reaches across the table and swipes Steve’s hat. “But there’s a perfectly good reason I brought you here, and I think you should be able to appreciate the ambiance without knowing the motivation behind it.”

Steve crosses his arms and leans his elbows on the table. “The ambiance? You mean driving on snowy roads at three in the morning, that ambiance?” He taps Bucky’s foot underneath the table, the solid thud of their boots dull compared to the clatter that suddenly comes from the kitchen.

Worry crosses quickly between them and Bucky’s just about to get up out of his seat when the woman who greeted them at the door comes into view. Her cheeks are red and a few of hairs have escaped the neat bun on the top of her head, but there’s a wide smile on her face as she sets two steaming mugs down in front of them.

“Had a bit of trouble with the cupboards, is all. Sorry about the racket.” She pulls a couple of spoons from her apron front and sets them down as well. “You two enjoy now.”

Bucky’s got a little crease between his brows and Steve knows what’s coming before Bucky even turns to ask. “Of course we should go see if she needs help.” He pushes himself up from the table and pretends to roll his eyes at the kiss Bucky quickly presses to his cheek.

They head back towards the kitchen and Bucky leans into the doorway, “Erma, you want me to check out that cupboard real quick?”

She pops back into view from behind a large wooden door and quickly wipes her hands on her apron, already shaking her head as she heads over to the oven and checks on something baking on the top rack. “It’s just that old hinge again, likes to come off at the worst possible times.”

Steve follows Bucky into the kitchen and Bucky leans in to inspect the hinge in question, stepping back to allow Steve to do the same while he moves on to check out the cupboard door currently lying on the ground. “Pretty sure you need to get this replaced,” he says, gesturing to the hinge. “It’s too rusted out to be worth screwing back on.”

Erma tuts and takes the cupboard door, looks at the broken hinge for herself. Her weathered fingers trace the cracks in the wood and ghost over the dark metal. Steve can’t help but notice the sadness that creeps into the edges of her expression as she does it. “Well, suppose it can’t be helped then. I think we’ve got a few spares in the barn that I can get to in the morning.”

Steve and Bucky exchange a quick look over Erma’s head and that’s how fifteen minutes later Steve’s standing in the kitchen doorway watching Bucky refit a cabinet door. There’s really not much to it, the most effort went into retrieving the hinge itself from the death trap Erma calls a barn, but Erma’s fluttering about like Bucky’s in the process of open heart surgery.

Finally, Bucky steps back and blows off the dust, puts the screwdriver back in its place in the toolbox and tosses the busted hinge up and down in his palm. “Well, that about does it then. Just gotta get the tools back to the barn and toss this old thing-”

“Not wait just one minute young man,” Erma puts her hands on her hips and stares him down like he’s just stolen a cookie from the jar. “Do you have any idea how old that thing is? The only place it should be going is a museum, not the trash.” She reaches out and waits for Bucky to place it in her palm. “But as it is, I’ll settle for keeping it on the counter.”

Bucky shrugs and they follow Erma back out into the diner, back to their table where their mugs have long since cooled. It’s past four in the morning now, snow still falling gently outside the window, but the weathered walls of the diner are still holding up just fine. Steve takes his seat and Bucky does the same, wooden chairs scraping across the floor as Erma reaches in and grabs their mugs, heads back to the kitchen to reheat them.

Their feet bump beneath the table and within minutes they’ve got steaming mugs back between their hands. Only this time, they actually have the chance to enjoy them. It’s hot chocolate of the highest caliber: homemade with whole milk, cocoa, sugar, and just a pinch of salt. There’s not a dash of whip cream or a single marshmallow in sight. (Bucky’s a bit of a purist when it comes to Erma’s cocoa and after one sip Steve can see why.)

The shutters on one of the windows have been left open and the curtains are pulled back as well, just enough so that Steve can see out to where the light from the diner illuminates the drifts of snow. Every once in awhile a car will drive past, headlights a quick flash in the gloom accompanied by the steady roll of tires.

Steve and Bucky sit and talk, sharing smiles and easy conversation over their drinks. It feels unbelievably warm, domestic, and Steve has no idea why it’s happening in the middle of the night at a diner but he’s going with it, letting himself smile and shake his head at Bucky’s stupid jokes.

Erma hands them a bag of cookies on their way out the door, a thank you for the cabinet, and Steve holds the bag as they shuffle their way across the newly fallen snow to the car. But once they get close Bucky doesn’t unlock the doors, just stands next to Steve and _looks_ at him for a moment, eyes so intense that Steve’s not sure what to expect. The warm lips that brush his aren’t entirely unexpected though. Neither is the hand that comes up and cups the back of his neck, fingertips pushing past the edge of his hat to comb through his hair.

Their breaths are hot between them, foggy and visible in the sharp winter night. Bucky’s mouth is insistent, lips and teeth and tongue, all gentle nips and soothing touches that Steve can’t help but melt into. Snow’s glistening all around them but Steve is warm pressed to Bucky’s chest. There’s heat tingling in his chest, up and down his spine, all the way from his toes to the tips of his ears. His fingers clench in the fabric of Bucky’s coat and stay there when they finally pull apart.

Foreheads pressed together, they take a moment to catch their breath, eyes fluttering open to take each other in in the soft light still spilling from the diner. Bucky leans in for one more kiss, a chaste brush of lips before he’s pulling back and rubbing his thumb along the line of Steve’s jaw, soft touch against softer skin.

“I love you,” he whispers, words echoing in the small space between them. They fall gentle and perfect as the new fallen snow.

Steve sucks in a breath, tightens his grip on Bucky’s jacket and drags him in, pushes their lips together and kisses him like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Their mouths drag together slow and wet and Bucky groans into Steve’s lips, both hands coming to frame Steve’s face and keep him closer, stealing kiss after kiss until they’re both flushed and panting. When they finally pull apart Steve feels like his chest is full of helium, ready to burst but keeping him floating high up in the star-filled sky.

He reaches up and traces a gentle finger over Bucky’s lips. “Love you too, Buck.” He lets his hand drop to the side of Bucky’s neck, holds it there like a steady anchor.

The grin that breaks across Bucky’s face is beautiful, makes Steve’s heart thud in his chest before Bucky’s leaning in and kissing him again- brief and bruising before giving a final gentle swipe of his tongue in apology. “Steve,” he breathes. “Do you mean that?”

“Course I do,” Steve says. “Don’t think I’d be standing out here if I didn’t.” He smirks at that, eyes glistening brighter than the snow as Bucky laughs, carefree and real and _ecstatic_ because the world is beautiful and they’re in love.

God, but they’re in love.

That night standing in the freezing cold suddenly seems so much better, that fire alarm so much sweeter a sound. It’s horrible and cheesy and Steve knows not everything will be this way but he’s content to enjoy the moment. Enjoy the way Bucky’s smiling down at him, holds the door open for him and laughs at Steve’s snarky, _“Don’t you try to be a gentleman with me, Barnes. That ship has sailed.”_ They hold hands over the console the entire drive, share cookies and memories and pointless conversation until the sun’s coming up and they’re pulling into the student parking lot.

Bucky shuts off the engine and turns to Steve, still bright with the high of having finally said those three little words and heard them in return. He gives Steve’s hand a final squeeze and asks, “So, breakfast?”

 

\---][---

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr, same username, if you'd like to come say hi^^


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